


To Break Silence

by Bonemarroww



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/M, FINNtastic Appreciation Month May 2019, Finn-Focused, Following TFA events, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19063105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonemarroww/pseuds/Bonemarroww
Summary: A fact well known among storm troopers –trainees and experienced alike– was that most of them shared the same trauma, earned from their very first lesson; a trauma that had a name: AH-‘The Element of Surprise’-0413.FN-2187, for all that he would become a man of exception, was no different.





	To Break Silence

Few events and fewer people marked the life of a storm trooper.

In the beginning, there was the arrival –a trauma easily fixed by a few years of brainwash- _formations_. In the end, there was death. No need to point out that it often came sooner than one would expect.

In between, there was _existence_.

When FN-2187 would give up his last breath, it would be these few events that he would see unfold behind his eyelids.

Curiously, as he would discover then, the first event that made the life of the man who would later be known as “just Finn”, was bound to one of the “fewer” people who would stand out in the sober, dark strand of his life in Starkiller Base.

 

A fact well known among storm troopers –trainees and experienced alike– was that most of them shared the same trauma, earned from their very first lesson; a trauma that had a name: AH-‘The Element of Surprise’-0413.

FN-2187, for all that he would become a man of exception, was no different. 

13-year-old FN-2187 would learn it the hard way, with a blaster shot to the shoulder and a week of rest in the medical wing.

Long after he would become an official trooper, he would still remember the nervousness of being the first in line for ‘infiltration training’. The first few steps he had taken, the darkness of the room, what his first hiding places were and how their shadows had felt on his white armour.  It was still somewhat fresh in his mind, when most of his memories from that time were foggy. Sometimes, when he thought back on it, he could still feel the excruciating pain of the energy shot in his shoulder; feel his ankles tremble as he fell on the ground, out in the open. Everything had appeared brighter yet greyer; the ground on his cheek, the barrels and pillars on his way, the blood on his arm… the number on the hidden sniper’s chestplate.

AH-0413.

This day, FN-2187 had discovered three things. First, that one should always be careful of hidden enemies. Second, that the troopers’ armours had a flaw between the arm protection and the chestplate. And third, that blaster shots hurt like hell.

Now, the young boy he was didn’t realize just then that in the impersonal armour of the sniper resided a person, a person like him, living, breathing, and serving the Order, whose mission was to shoot unsuspecting trainees like him to teach them prudence.

(And prudent he had been ever after.)

Of course, even though the concept was here, it was only a few years later that FN-2187 fully grasped it, when he made the actual acquaintance of _Surprise_.

 

As often as FN-2187 crossed path with the Element of Surprise –and the couple of time he woke up in the medical bay because of the sniper’s keen eye–, he really only started evolving around them a few years later, after he became an actual storm trooper.

FN-2187 was a discrete young man, conscious of his place in the First Order and putting his duties before socializing like some of his fellow troopers did.

This didn’t mean he didn’t hear gossip, or occasionally joined in a game in his dormitory. He shared his room with a bunch of boys he had met during training; not necessarily the best company in the First Order, but they generally let him be and it was okay with him. That is, when they were not in need of another card player.

Now, FN-2187 was no mean boy, and he never minded a game on occasion when he had time to kill until his next service. He wasn’t intentionally of the solitary kind; more like the lonely one. Somehow, he had never really “clicked” with anyone, whether during training or later.

He could have a good time, and yes, he could laugh sometimes. But never had he felt _close_ to someone. Never had he cried, when he lost a fellow trooper; only blamed the Resistance through gritted teeth, like any other fighter did. Never had he shared any secret –did he even have secrets to share?– or feelings –that, he knew he did.

And so, on these times when he would ‘mingle’ and let himself be pulled into a game or another, he wouldn’t talk much; only listen and display his best forced smile.

This is how, years after leaving the training grounds, he saw _the_ number again. “Surprise’s coming over tonight. We’re one player short though, so you better be ready to get your ass kicked.” Some guy had told him in the evening.

One of the boys in his dormitories, who went by the number FN-1968, had befriended a trooper a couple years older than them, some guy who had known the First Order before Kylo Ren even arrived as Supreme Leader Snoke’s apprentice. The veteran had introduced him in return to his usual circle of card players, where FN-1968 had finally met the one and only _Surprise._

At this time, the only things FN-2187 had gathered from his discussions with FN-1968 was that _Surprise_ was very lucky and even more at cards, and that she was sharing bunks with Captain Phasma. Hence the shock when on this evening, he opened the dormitory’s door to a woman whose number made an involuntary shiver run down his spine.

AH-0413.

It was about this time he ironically took to nicknaming her ‘Surprise’ like most people did throughout the base. One could still feel the grudge he was holding towards her in the months that followed.

FN-2187 hadn’t known whom he had expected to discover as the sniper. As it were, he had managed to almost forget her existence until that day. Maybe he had expected someone older, a man maybe, someone who looked like they thoroughly enjoyed shooting scared children as a pastime.

She was none of that. A bit brash, maybe, but an excellent card player. The constant smirk at the corner of her lips showed a little dimple in her cheek, and her eyes shone with more life than FN-2187 was used to see in the First Order.

 

FN-1968 died two years later, as skirmishes with the Resistance got more and more frequent. His body was never recovered from the obscure planet that knew his last breaths. To say his disappearance was a shock to his fellow troopers would be an overstatement, really. As was said before; few events marked the life of a storm trooper, and after a couple of losses, one learnt not to get too attached. With the years, death became a common occurrence in FN-2187’s existence; though he rarely witnessed it, what with Captain Phasma hating him too much not to constrict him to sanitation duties most of the time.

However, if he hadn’t been terribly affected by the death of his comrade, he had forgotten that someone on this base certainly was. Someone who came knocking at his door in the middle of the evening, as most of his companions had left to another dormitory for a cards evening.

“Hey, 2187. You alone in here?” the usually mocking voice fell flat as he opened the door to an unusually deflated Surprise.

FN-2187 nodded, and shifted to let her in. Most people didn’t bother giving others nicknames. AH-0413 didn’t either; but one had to admit their numbers were a mouthful.

She came in with a small bottle of an amber liquid, and a pack of cards.

“I hope you don’t mind me crashing here.”

He shrugged, and shut the door behind her. Without asking for permission, she laid down on the first bunk bed she found, which happened to be his. Had the sniper not seemed so upset, FN-2187 might have frowned. In any case; he sat down on the ground, with his back against the bed.

“It’s about 1968, isn’t it?” He tried to ask softly, but his voice came out rugged from not having talked all day.

He heard her sigh and the sound of shifting covers as she turned her head to look at him.

“I really liked him.” Her voice crackled with an emotion that felt foreign in his ears.

It wasn’t disappointment, nor was it dissatisfaction or anger. When he turned to look at her, her eyes shined with a thin layer of unshed tears, turning her irises into a similar amber to that in the little glass bottle.

FN-2187 had never seen sadness before. It was beautiful, in a way.

“I’m sorry.”

It was all he could say, really. Surprise rolled on her belly, her face squished against the hard mattress. One of her arms fell freely out of the bed, her fingers coming to brush against the dusty ground.

“At least _you_ pretend.” She grunted.  “Phasma’s being so… _Phasma_.”

Anyone who had to serve under her guidance for more than a day could understand without trouble what she meant, FN-2187 thought, chuckling softly. He could feel her irritation at the Captain, though there was something else too. _Camaraderie_ , probably.

“She just gave me this…” AH-0413 went on.

She agitated the bottle in the air nonchalantly.

“… and told me to find somewhere else to mope around. I think she’s still mad at me about this time I shot her in the hip.”

The storm trooper rose an eyebrow, turning slightly to take a better look at her. AH-0413 was obviously older than him; that he had always known. But her features were still rather young, with her usually sparkly eyes and dimply smile. Surely she hadn’t already been around to train their Captain?

“You taught Phasma?” He couldn’t help but ask, the phantom of a disbelieving smile on his lips.

Surprise raised her head, a faint smirk threatening to appear on her lips. She winked at him. FN-2187 immediately looked away, in a shy act he barely noticed.

“She was a couple of years behind me. Back then she wasn’t Phasma yet, just CZ-5643, but she was already one scary bitch. I was the best shot in my year, so they offered to pay me a few extra credits to scare the younger ones into stealth. That’s how we met.”

The woman rolled on her back, and lightly threw the bottle in the air, catching it before it could fall back on her chest. FN-2187 didn’t really know what to say. He was so used to listening to her ramblings, it felt like nothing he could have to say was worth the effort of finding the right words.

For a long time, they remained silent, until his elder uncorked the bottle. When she passed it to him, after taking a long sip, the feeling of the cold glass under his fingertips felt foreign. Never had FN-2187 drunk alcohol before. It was too rare, too expensive for troopers of his rank.

As the amber burned his throat leaving a bitter feeling in his mouth, he heard her quiet chuckle. Embarrassed, the man gave her the bottle back, his cheeks warm.

When he would fall asleep this night, it would be with her laugh ringing between his ears.

 

The death of FN-1968 marked the beginning of Surprise and FN-2187’s friendship. Sometimes, the thought occurred to him that nothing good had ever begun on a tombstone; but at the end of the day, she would come to him. She would tell him about her eternal secrets and stories, and he would pretend not to have already heard them a thousand times. The life on Starkiller base could get dull with time. Rare were the events that stood out in their lives; for someone as desperately talkative as Surprise was, this world was too small.

Most times, FN-2187 just nodded as she talked. He didn’t really know what he had done to become her new conversation buddy, but it felt rather nice to have someone exuding life, like her, seeking his presence. When she talked to him, looking at things he couldn’t see, reliving the exciting moments she was telling him about, it felt like she had always known him. FN-2187 guessed he was just the type of person she needed. Someone who could listen. It was fine, really. He liked having someone to take his mind off things.

“Life here is covered by a veil of silence.” She used to say.

Few were those who managed to break it. Surprise always told him that he could, if he wanted to. All he needed was a word. Something.

 _I’ll teach you how to see what is kept invisible;_ she whispered in his ear one night she had embraced him before parting. _To break silence._

Surprise was of those who had broken the veil, of those who filled the void inside with words and memories. Of those who entertained humanity through ramblings and meaningless stories.

And, in a way, FN-2187 admired her for that.

 

In the end, FN-2187 never got to break silence. No matter the years of camaraderie with AH-0413, spent listening and wishing he had the same guts, the same talent at enthralling others with stories. Surprise didn’t mind his discretion one bit; but every time she would tell him to pierce the veil, he felt like he let her down somehow.

So, well, FN-2187 never broke silence, not in the way AH-0413 did.

Whet he did was far bolder.

If asked to explain what happened to him on Jakku, FN-2187 couldn’t really express what went through his head. Why his blaster remained cold between his hands. Maybe it was the blood of his comrade on his mask, or the innocents he could see Captain Phasma firing on furiously. Maybe it was the intimidating presence of Kylo Ren, just next to them, deflecting shots and destroying everything he touched.

The world was crazy, feral, all around him; no way to escape madness as it seemed to course through his being.

The flight back to Starkiller base was hardly better. FN-2187 felt like a time bomb, ready to explode, to have words, horrid words for horrid memories, bursting out of him. For the first time in so long, he wanted to tell _them_ , to tell _everyone_ ; to scream a about the look in the children’s eyes, the cries of mothers and the sound of stone houses tumbling down.

 

When FN-2187’s feet found back the familiar black flatness of the base, his mind was boiling. The sound of cries and angry howls and blaster shots drowned out his very thoughts. He saw the prisoner, the pilot, be taken away towards the interrogation cells; to be tortured until he broke. This part of the base, FN-2187 had visited a couple of times; usually, when Captain Phasma felt like sending him mop blood from the floor.

FN-2187 had never been on a mission such as this one, and if he could see most of the other troopers head for their quarters or chow, his stomach felt far too twisted to keep anything down. And so, he did the only thing he knew would help; head to the training quarters, and see if AH-0413 could maybe wrap up early and take his mind off this whole mess.

When he set foot in at the back of the training grounds, by the entrance only ever used by snipers like his friend, he didn’t find her but another corporal firing at the younger troopers. Had he been in his normal state of mind, FN-2187 would have probably just closed the door, and looked elsewhere for his friend –though he never dared, naturally, to knock at Phasma’s to look for Surprise.

This time, with the blood of his comrade still heavy on his mask, the man couldn’t care less. He needed to find her, to _talk_ to her. To tell her about everything he had seen, lest he might become crazy.

“Captain Phasma is looking for AH-0413.” He announced as he joined the room.

This was an easy lie, well practised and well used. The bond between the Captain and the ‘Element of Surprise’ was known by most, and could excuse about anyone looking for the older woman, let it be for a good reason or for a game of cards. Still, the probability of Phasma asking about her _friend_ remained high enough so that no one dared ask more questions than that.

“AH-0413 has been sent on a mission.” The caporal didn’t even turn his head to answer. “Before you ask, it’s classified.”

FN-2187 barely registered the man telling him that she wouldn’t be here until the next day at the earliest. He only nodded, and closed the door.

Deep inside, the words were burning.

 

The night was spent tossing and turning underneath his cover, feeling too cold and too hot at the same time. In his head, images flared with the colour of blood and dust. FN-2187 had never been on a battle before. He had never been the best at anything during the First Order’s thought conditioning process; especially at firing. He wondered briefly how old had Surprise been when she had been sent on her first mission. It wasn’t the same, he guessed, seeing as she was better off as a sniper. She probably wasn’t the type to be sent on guerrilla fights like they had done with him.

The night had been quiet. When most times, some of his bunk mates would have invited others for games or such entertainment, the recent loss of a few of them had cooled the atmosphere in the base.

Had AH-0413 been there, she would have probably felt the anger and hurt in him. She would have understood how upset he was, with or without words. For once, she would have been the one listening. And maybe, she would have stayed with him at night –even if it meant being teased the next morning–, like she sometimes did. He would have whispered the words in her ears, and he bet she wouldn’t have laughed or given him the cold shoulder for a few tears in his eyes.

But she wasn’t there.

When the morning came, FN-2187 made his way for the formations ground. Reconditioning. Luckily, his not participating actively in the battle was his first offence. He didn’t know many offenders, and this, for a reason.

Reconditioning was pretty much like how he remembered his first years of training. Encoded voices in his ear, telling him about the _grandeur_ of the First Order’s purpose, and the honour he had to be a part of this organization. Words he could remember agreeing to, when he was younger; when he was lost and far from everything he had, undoubtedly, once loved. It was purpose. Something to fight for.

Something he no longer wanted to defend. Something that now scared him, if he admitted so himself.

Maybe this is how, at the first occasion he saw, FN-2187 headed for the prisoner’s quarters; and that words escaped his mouth before he even had any semblance of control on them. A part of him was surprised it even worked. FN-2187 wasn’t used to things going the way he wanted. He didn’t waste time nor stopped to think.

If he did, he was sure to realize how berserk he was going in his friend’s absence.

As he led the pilot to the TIE fighters, he did take an instant to consider backing out. He knew, somehow, he couldn’t take one more day in the First Order, and that this man, this pilot in shackles he was freeing, was his best shot at going as far away from Starkiller as he could.

That would mean leaving behind, probably forever, his one and only friend.

Later, way after receiving this four letter name that now meant so much to him; when he would think back on this moment, he wouldn’t be able to find regret in him.

It was not how life had turned out… and that was all.

Leaving, he expected The Element of Surprise to become nothing but a sweet memory to hold onto when remembering his days in the First Order.

But then again; so did everyone else.

 

Several times, as he escaped Starkiller with this Poe Dameron pilot, and throughout his whole adventure with the girl and the droid, his mind went to Surprise. In nothing but a couple of hours, he felt like he had obtained so much. The taste of freedom was unknown and thrilling; like the sun blinds after too many years spent in the shadows.

With this single act of fleeing the First Order, he had gained so much. A name, for starters. _Finn._ He had never known how a simple sound could feel so good to hear; knowing that this, if nothing else, was his. It was exhilarating.

When their TIE fighter crashed on Jakku – _why did everyone seem to want to go to Jakku?_ – the loss of Poe nearly brought tears to his eyes. For the first time in his life, he had trusted and felt the spark of honest friendship; felt the thrill of accomplishing something in his meaningless life.

AH-0413 would have been so proud of him.

As much as his own, brand new name felt like music to his ears, that of his older friend didn’t ring the same anymore. It felt rusty, not so special as it used to; the number that had marked his first years in the First Order’s troops was now greyer, almost unremarkable.

What had happened to her fearsome name?

Or had the change happened within _him_?

Finn – _just thinking it gave him shivers_ – figured she would have liked Poe, had she met him in other conditions. They were both confident, and talented. He wasn’t one for gamble, but he could bet Poe liked a game of cards.

The girl, Rey, was different. He felt close to her, of course, as close of two First Order runaways could.

But she was more of a loner, he could tell. She was all thoughts and resolution; far from Surprise’s humour and ramblings. No, she was like him, in a way. She was ‘just Rey’, in the same way he was ‘just Finn’. She was a nobody. Just like him.

If he ever met Surprise again, he’d have so many things to tell her. The world was so much bigger from where he now stood; finally broad enough for her. Just thinking about how many things she would see in it, things he couldn’t yet perceive, was giving him shivers.

In what he would later describe as the craziest day he had ever lived –and ever would know– Finn felt the seal that used to be on his lips crackle, with every word addressed to him. Not all were nice or kind, but none were as harsh and unfeeling as those you could hear in the First Order. And eventually, it broke.

He had only wished it wasn’t in front of this Maz woman, or in a bout of cowardice.

Everyone was so brave around him; it was unnerving. He better than anyone knew that the First Order couldn’t be stopped.

_Maybe if Surprise was with him, she could convince them._

 

As much as he wasn’t expecting to meet with his friend ever again, Finn never imagined that she could die. She had been such a constant in his life; it was hard to think that she could disappear in the snap of a finger, like them common mortals. She was AH-0413, the ‘Element of Surprise’; she couldn’t be gone.

When he heard of the Resistance’s plan on destroying Starkiller entirely, two thoughts fused in his head at the same time. One was fresh, coming from the raw panic his mind had been into for the past few hours.

Rey was there. He had to find her, to get her out before _they_ killed her. He wasn’t sure who _they_ would be; but he wouldn’t let her die in the crossfire between the First Order and these hopeful idiots.

The other was more of a passive realization, one that had been slowly built as General Organa’s counsellors and fellow resistant fighters elaborated on how to destroy a weapon of destruction.

AH-0413 could be there.

 

The plan was crazy. Simple, yet crazy. Land on Starkiller at light speed, survive, get Rey, survive, find Surprise, survive, make the entire base explode… Survive.

Easy.

The presence of this Han Solo guy and his… _thing_ , with him, unnerved him to no end. The older man didn’t understand. He couldn’t, really. He couldn’t imagine the sacrifice Finn was willing to make to get Rey; the reformed trooper didn’t even dare imagine how he would react if he were to know about AH-0413.

Had he known then of Han Solo’s fate, he might not have judged the old man so harshly.

It was, admittedly, dumb luck that made them cross Phasma’s path, so she could guide them to the control panel to lower the shields. However, though the Captain was many things, stupid she was not. Through her visor, Finn could feel her narrowed gaze on him the whole time they spent in her company, before they could decide what to do with her.

“I knew you’d come back for her eventually.” Her voice was dripping with poison as she addressed the words to him. “She was certainly upset to hear how her dear _friend_ betrayed the First Order.”

Her mean words earned her a shove against a wall, and a saber shoved threateningly towards her neck. Finn didn’t know much about lightsabers, not much more than the knowledge that this hateful woman was a pressed button away from eternal silence.

He could see where she was getting, poking Han’s curiosity, certainly hoping they would fight over the matter.

As it turns out, Finn’s morals were not Han’s priority at the moment, and so the tall woman hit the garbage compactor all the same.

Still, among the anxiety –bordering on panic– and the relief of finding Rey, a nauseating feeling held a tight grip on his stomach.

Phasma had refused to tell him where Surprise was; and as Han had so lightly put it, they were running out of time.

 

The thought of finding his friend faded from his head the second he saw red light tear through Han Solo. Maybe it was survival instinct, or simply the raw terror that Kylo Ren still inspired in his heart. Rey’s sadness; or maybe the fact that the base was about to blow up.

Regret didn’t even have time to settle in his heart, for he fled before he could think of what he would be leaving behind on Starkiller.

It didn’t really matter, anyway. Sooner than he could process,

The world became black.

Almost as black as the Knight looming over him.

 

Few events and fewer people mark the life of a storm trooper.  But these people, well… Let’s just say they tend to be full of surprises. As fates are woven, their paths often cross, and don’t like to be held apart.

When Finn closed his eyes on the snowy ground, ashes were dancing in the air all around him. Some fell to rest on his eyelashes. It was a beautiful way to go, really. Yet, his last breath wouldn’t be wasted on this land of destruction.

His eyelids, heavy with memories and dreams, would lift again; the sun would blind him the same way it had on Jakku.

When he would wake up, so would the knowledge that against all odds, victory was within reach. For the first time in his existence, he would feel like living, truly living; and somehow, the future wouldn’t seem as bleak as it used to. And as his thoughts would take him to his dear white wearing, infamously lucky friend, it would be with peace and hope on his mind. She had been there, consciously or not, at most moments of his life, and he didn’t doubt that she still had more surprises in store for him.

Someday, they would meet again.

Deep down, he knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> This took longer than I expected, but the story decided to kick my OC out halfway through it. It's okay, fic, no offence taken.  
> I hope you liked it, and as always, feedback is welcome !


End file.
